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by Diamantspitzhacke (RedSoleWrites)



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Crack, Eggpire, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, POV Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Puffy is an excellent adult as always, Ranboo defeats the egg with facts and logic, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), and also sick roasts, and puffy helps because we love her, eggpire arc, have some feel good story, no beta we die like the egg does here, the egg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29373915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSoleWrites/pseuds/Diamantspitzhacke
Summary: Bad's got a bunch of posters advertising the Eggpire.Ranboo has a pad of super sticky notes and a Gen-Z sense of humor.This can only go well.(And by well, I mean that Ranboo roasts the Egg to death)
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Ranboo
Comments: 22
Kudos: 406





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**Author's Note:**

> y'all're used to me as a Serious and Intense writer but little do you know the power i wield with crack fics
> 
> that's right
> 
> i have Range in my writing
> 
> FEAR ME
> 
> /j /j/ j please i just want approval

Bad frolics down the Prime Path, humming a happy tune as he hops over a stray red tendril. “Looking great, sweetie,” he coos, patting the large root fondly.

It’s early afternoon on the Dream SMP and Bad is feeling great. The sun is shining, the Egg is thriving, Dream is in prison, Ant and Puffy are on his side, and his plans for server-wide domination are going swimmingly. Plus, as a bonus, he tried a new muffin recipe earlier and they turned out fantastically.

Really, this day is perfect.

Nothing can ruin Bad’s perfect mood.

He skips over to where he placed a helpful flyer advertising the Eggpire. It’s gorgeous, an excellent commission, in his opinion.

But, as he stops in front of it, his happy thoughts of world domination come to a shocked halt.

There, right in front of him, marring his perfect poster, is a large green sticky note.

Bad snatches it off his poster to inspect it further, only to be infuriated when whatever super-sticky adhesive coating the back tears off part of the flyer with it! Incensed, Bad reads what the note says.

“Sorry, wrong number.”

It’s neatly done, the handwriting clean, crisp, and cramped on the small surface.

Bad hates it.

With an angry growl, he shreds the note to little green confetti bits. The demon stomps off towards the cavern housing the Egg. The Egg always helps. It’ll understand his frustration.

Bad doesn’t bother to check the other pieces of propaganda littering the SMP.

Ranboo hums an upbeat tune to himself as he wanders the SMP. He’s on a mission right now, one he doesn’t have to worry about messing up.

There’s a bunch of weird ads all over the server. Ranboo doesn’t know what it means, or even really what it’s advertising in the first place. And really, if the consumer doesn’t understand what they’re being sold, then that’s just bad business practice. No fault of his own.

So really, he’s doing them a favor by leaving these notes. They’re funny, he thinks. Plus, they’ll force whoever is doing this to put up new, hopefully improved ads, thanks to their extra strength stick. And if they’re not better, then Ranboo will just do it again. A harmless way to teach them a lesson, he thinks. Much less destructive than creating an army of withers and bombing a country into oblivion. Yes. This will do.

He smooths down the specially gifted sticky note. A present from Tubbo, they were originally intended to leave himself relevant notes in specific places. Knowing Tubbo, though, the half-enderman doubts his friend will protest the slight alteration in purpose.

The red of this note matches the red of the egg on the poster, enough so that if a passerby didn’t look too closely, it would just look like another part of the poster. A red egg atop a black backdrop, the simple words “ANSWER THE CALL” emblazoned across the top.

Ranboo has wittily added, “Messaging and data rates apply.”

Previous additions on this same series include “Sorry, the number you are calling is no longer in service,” "For more information dial 772-257-4480,” and, his personal favorite, “Diane? Is that you? Honey, I’ve been trying to reach you for _ages_ , are you finally calling me back? The kids miss you.”

It’s been a good day for Ranboo.

He’s brainstorming how to best address the next in the poster series – this one is just the egg in a simpler design, without any words – and trying to decide between random shitposting (“Okay, but can I fit it in my mouth?”) or existential dread (“I contain a fetus. Is it you?”).

Out of nowhere, though, BadBoyHalo appears in his vision. He’s out of breath, panting heavily, and his armor _click-clacks_ loudly as he approaches. The look on his face is slightly intimidating, as is the sight of Captain Puffy by his side.

Quieting his anxiety, Ranboo checks his memory book. He flips to the page of people to trust,

Bad and Puffy aren’t mentioned.

Apparently, he’s going into this blind.

“Hey Bad!” he greets faux-casually. “Um…what’s up?”

“Ranboo!” Bad pauses for a second, still catching his breath. “Have you seen someone walking around suspiciously today?”

The half-enderman thinks for a second. Did he? “Um, no, not that I can remember. Which doesn’t really mean much, coming from me, I guess.”

He double-checks his memory book for mentions of a suspicious character today, just to be safe, but he doesn’t have any entries. Bad grumbles lowly as Ranboo confirms, “No, yeah, I don’t see anybody in here. Sorry!”

Puffy waves jauntily as she starts leading Bad away, though something catches his attention first. “Hey, Ranboo, what’s that in your pocket?”

“This?” Ranboo tugs out the back-and-forth green and red pad of sticky notes. “It’s my portable notes! Tubbo gave them to me ages ago. It was really nice of him, especially after the whole traitor thing. I’m glad he still thinks of me as a friend, and oh no, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Don’t worry, Ranboo, you’re all good! It happens to everybody.” Puffy reassures.

“Right…” Bad tacks on, though his mind seems preoccupied with something. Ranboo can relate. His eyes are still locked on Ranboo’s sticky notes. “Ant, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Oh, Antfrost is here?” Ranboo turns excitedly, searching for the cat man. “That’s so cool, it feels like I haven’t seen him in ages, where is-”

A sharp pain in Ranboo’s head makes the whole world go dark.

The throbbing of his skull is what pulls Ranboo from unconsciousness. He groans, wincing at the simultaneous pain in his head and back.

He tries to reach up to rub the sore spot, but his arms can’t move. That suddenly jolts him back into awareness.

Ranboo is in a room made entirely of stone, though there are odd vines of red creeping in from the corners. However, upon closer inspection, they look more like the roots of a tree spreading aboveground. Either that or tentacles. He’s split on which to call them.

He’s sitting on a simple wooden chair, in the middle of the room. All the tentacle-roots point towards him.

_For all the times I’ve seen war crimes and terrorism, I’ve got to admit, the kidnapping is new._

“Well, well, well, look who’s awake.”

That’s – that’s Bad’s voice. But the tone is full of sinisterly upbeat malice that is so unlike the man Ranboo’s heard about it sends shivers down his spine. What happened to the cheerful and kind person that Tubbo and Tommy told him about? The one who hated swearing with a passion and loved his friends dearly?

Because Ranboo may not be the most socially smart person, but even he can tell that this is Not Normal interaction.

“Hello, Ranboo!” he says, and Bad swoops in from the shadows, his eyes eerily wide, and glides to a stop in front of the teen.

“Um.”

Feeling the beginnings of panic crawling through his veins, Ranboo focuses more on his breathing than the absurdly tall man in front of him. Like, seriously, Ranboo knows he’s tall, but this guy has like a foot on him. It gives him a feeling of physical smallness he’s not used to. It’s not helping the anxiety.

“You’ve been causing us quite a bit of trouble around here.”

Antfrost, his eyes red, like, literally red, creeps into the light as well. He’s completely silent, a stark contrast to the chatty BadBoyHalo. Puffy follows in his wake, though she at least is emoting. It looks like she’s doing her best to look mad or intimidating, but the way she keeps holding her hand to cover her mouth reveals the humor she’s terrible at hiding.

“Um,” Ranboo repeats intelligently.

“Did you really think you could get away with it? Did you think we wouldn’t _notice_?”

Now Ranboo is confused. “Whaaaaat do you mean?”

Somehow this seems to turn Bad’s generally Off vibe to one more clearly angry. “What do I mean? _What do I mean?_ The blatant _slander_ you’ve been leaving around the server is what I mean! Just look at all the vandalism you’ve done!”

“Vandalism? I mean, I know I was with Tommy that one time he burned George’s house but beyond that-”

“No, no, not that, you muffinhead. I mean something far worse.”

And from somewhere under his cloak – _does that thing have pockets?_ – Bad produces the stack of sticky notes Tubbo had given him. He gestures to it with bravado and no small amount of frustration. “This!”

“…my sticky notes?”

“Yes! That! These – these – these – help me out here!”

“Scientific aberrations?” Ant offers.

“Neat gifts?” Ranboo tries.

“Bad potatoes?” Puffy giggles.

Bad snaps his fingers at Puffy. “Yes! These _bad potatoes_ are messing with our excellent depictions of the wonderful Egg!”

“We did commission them,” Puffy admits. “Pretty good artist.”

“And you _ruined_ their work! More than that, you _slandered_ the Egg! And that cannot go unpunished.”

“I have no idea what’s going on.”

It was true. With all the wild accusations being thrown his way, Ranboo lost track of the original reason for being unceremoniously kidnapped by possible egg-worshippers. This may be one of the oddest situations he’s been in since arriving here, and it’s certainly the one he understands the least.

Still, as with most circumstances he’s encountered here, he just kind of rolls with it. So when Bad starts ranting to him about sticky notes of all things as though he’s the worst kind of villain, Ranboo smiles and waves, except not smiling because he feels like he should put on a serious face, and not waving, because his hands are kind of tied to the chair.

So he’s pretty much just sitting there and vaguely grimacing at the stereotypical villain monologue going on in front of him.

Honestly, it looks like Bad needs it, with how stuck up he is on some sticky notes, of all things. He should really start venting more. Maybe invest in like a target or something to throw knives at, Ranboo isn’t sure. He’s not one to talk, what with his whole life philosophy of “I’ll keep everything bottled up, and then one day, I’ll die.”

Maybe Ranboo should invest in a target too.

He’s lost track of what Bad is saying.

Whoops.

The teen tunes back in to catch the tail end of what he assumes is some sorely needed yelling on Bad’s part. He hears “-and you’ll learn to _love_ the Egg, you will! It doesn’t take much; the Egg is wonderful and amazing. All you need to do is spend some quality time with it to properly learn why what you did is wrong! That’s all!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ranboo interjects as Bad takes a moment to pause for breath. Okay, so now they’re definitely confirmed egg-worshippers. He can practically _taste_ the capitalization every time Bad says ‘Egg.’ “So this egg.”

“The Egg.”

“Yeah. Um. What’s in it?”

“For a little while, Skeppy,” Puffy answers.

“Woah, wait, it’s hollow?” Ranboo asks. He receives slightly hesitant nods in return. “And it’s been growing?” More nods. “How on Earth does this thing work?”

“We feed it and we love it and it grows.”

“That’s not an answer, Bad. I’m looking for science. That’s, like, ‘it works because I say it does’ logic.”

“It’s not our place to question the Egg!”

“I’m definitely questioning it!”

“Well then stop that!”

“I can’t!” If Ranboo’s hands were free, he would be throwing them up in frustration. “I’m a naturally skeptical person, that’s not my fault!”

Puffy shrugs at Bad, her armor clanking slightly with the movement. “He does have a point there.”

“Puffy, you of all people know that the Egg has a plan for us and that it’s not our place to question it!”

“This thing _speaks_?” The half-enderman’s confusion is mounting by the minute. None of the answers he’s getting are clearing anything up for him. By now, his anxiety has been abandoned in favor of pure bewilderment. He’s hardly paying attention to the literal binds tying him to a chair, that’s how focused he is on Bad’s nonsense words. “Are you sure? Are you just going crazy or something? Like, that’s not normal, man.”

Bad’s eyes gleam with some emotion Ranboo isn’t sure he wants to identify. “No, Ranboo, that’s what’s special about the Egg. It speaks to us, it knows us, it helps us, it _loves_ us.”

“But aren’t eggs literal fetuses? How does it have a functioning brain that can communicate with you?”

Silence meets Ranboo’s very valid question. He forges on, fueled by this train of thought.

“Not only that, even if it were to be developed enough to speak language, how would it know English? Like, how did it learn it, if it’s inside an egg? Or, rather, just is an egg, because apparently, it’s hollow, but we’re glossing over that for now, I’ll go back to it later.” Ranboo is rambling now, but this time his audience is so stunned by his clearly flawless logic that he gains momentum. “Like is it telepathic or something? Because I doubt it has a functional tongue, it’s an egg, but why is English its default? Why not Dutch, or Piglish, or Galactic, or some nonsense egg language?

“And going back to the whole apparently-hollow-but-still-growing-egg thing, what’s up with that? I may be no egg expert, but I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to expand like that, just the thing inside of them, and yet there isn’t anything inside of it? But it’s growing? And also has tentacle-roots, like what’s with that? What kind of thing is this, where it’s a hollow egg that grows in size and also has tentacle-roots that are like plants except way more mobile? Like that one over there, I’m pretty sure I just saw it move.”

The tentacle-root in question waves at him before another one slaps it down. It wilts slightly like a dog that’s just been scolded. He feels kind of bad for that one specific tentacle-root, before remembering that both tentacle-roots are a part of the same weird organism, and then the momentary sympathy disappears.

“Did you see that? They clearly just moved. How does that work?”

“I-” Bad starts, but Ranboo, in a moment he’ll probably regret later, keeps going and talks over him.

“And why is it affecting you guys so much? Like, are you okay? This is some weird egg apologist stuff coming from you, I’ll be honest. Like, I just put up sticky notes on signs because they were really unclear, and you’ve reached a point where that’s kidnapping-worthy to you. What’ll you do if I roast the egg, huh?”

“I would be very upset.”

“Let’s test that theory. The egg is ugly and gross and weird and would probably make a terrible omelet.”

“HEY!” Bad yells, drawing his sword and aiming it at Ranboo. Antfrost does the same from behind him.

There’s an inhuman screech that reverberates around the walls.

Bad drops his weapon to start petting one of the tentacle-roots, crooning at it. “Oh, no, he didn’t mean it, sweetie, you’re so gorgeous, you’re wonderful, and nobody wants to make you an omelet.”

“I don’t know, man, Sapnap would probably eat anything.”

“Bad, what – why were you so willing to stab Ranboo for that? It wasn’t even a good roast!”

“Shut up, Puffy. You heard the Egg! He hurt its feelings!”

“It’s an Egg, Bad, it can take it!”

“The Egg is a terrible shade of red, it’s clearly just the generic brand version of the Nether.”

Another screech, this one louder. Both Bad and Antfrost have abandoned any attempts to punish Ranboo in their efforts to console the egg that is apparently incapable of being even mildly insulted. It’s like a four-year-old with helicopter parents, not that Ranboo would know what that’s like, but it’s still kind of pitiful. He continues anyway.

“Bro, I gotta call Technoblade. I haven’t seen this egg’s parents, it’s clearly an orphan. I want to see what he does.”

“It – it probably stinks in there!” Puffy jumps in with growing enthusiasm. She seems to have abandoned her egg cultist ways. Good for her.

As Ranboo and Puffy take turns insulting the egg, Bad and Ant scolding them all the while, the screeches get louder and louder, until Puffy is covering her ears and Ranboo wishes he could do the same.

“You can’t even do anything on your own!”

“Bro, you can’t _move_! You’re stuck in a pit!”

“You recruited a man who won’t even say ‘fuck’ to be your cult leader!” (This elicits a “LANGUAGE” from Bad in return. Puffy only giggles at his reprimand.).

“Yooo, it’s a gold digger!”

“Ranboo, you are so right!”

“It’s literally shaped like an egg.”

“The Eggpire is a stupid name!”

“Your tentacle-roots are a disgrace to the good name of Red Vines.”

“They should sue for slander.”

“They really should.”

“Apparently the Egg wants to recruit you, Ranboo.”

“Okay, but are there any askers?”

With a final earth-shattering scream, the tentacle-roots flailing (Ranboo is sure they’re embarrassed at being called out, he knows he would be), Ranboo hears a wet splattering noise.

Suddenly, Bad and Ant collapse like puppets with their strings cut.

He exchanges a look with the Captain.

“Um.”

She quickly slices him free, and together they creep into the next room over.

Inside, the walls are coated with a thick, slimy goop. It stinks faintly of sulfur.

Where Ranboo assumes the egg once stood, based on the jagged bit of shell that’s rocking slightly, is nothing more than a tangled mess of the tentacle-roots. The vines quickly start blackening and shriveling, until they turn to dust with as little ceremony as Peter Parker in Infinity War.

Ranboo watches it all with a smile.

Puffy snorts slightly. “I guess I was right when I said it stank.”

“It really couldn’t handle any roasts, huh.”

“Nope.”

“Imagine if someone introduced it to Twitter dot com.”

“It would’ve exploded in seconds, holy shit-”

The pair turn away from the blast zone and retreat toward the surface. As they finally make it back up to sunlight, Ranboo slightly surprised by how close they are to general civilization for an evil egg bunker, the teen breathes in deeply. God, fresh air, without the faint aroma of egg, is something he’ll never take for granted again.

He breathes in again, though this time much more sharply. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” Puffy asks, instantly concerned.

“I lost my sticky notes,” Ranboo realizes, staring at the ground sadly.

**Author's Note:**

> am i aware that i change up the capitalization of the Egg? yes that is on purpose, bc ranboo over here ain't about to capitalize that shit in his head, nah, he's not gonna respect it enough for that


End file.
